Don't Be Bitter: British Brewers Are Producing Superb Lagers

Beer of the week: Lost And Grounded's Keller Pils. But first, a reminder that lager in the UK was originally aimed at upwardly-mobile types and was the house drink of low-end Thatcherism

THERE WAS A piece about beer in The Spectator last week that annoyed me. Almost every opinion expressed in this right-wing publication is wrong. Here was another example.

This article is about the demise of bitter. It is as stale as the slop served under that name that nearly killed the brewing industry in the days before the craft revolution.

If you bother to look for bitter, there’s plenty of it about and it’s a far cry from the dishwater that turned so many of us away from that style in the 1980s.

Another line in the piece – from a writer who combines pomposity, limited knowledge and the conviction of an expert – talked about a time before the “tasteless brute lager swaggered into our taverns.” Interesting.

Britain came very late to lager. It was around 50 years ago that this type of beer became popular in UK pubs. The idea of lager drinkers being yobs is now enshrined in the national consciousness. It’s hard to comprehend that, initially, lagers were marketed as being chic and sophisticated.

In the 1970s and early 80s, lager was aimed at the upwardly socially mobile. Sharp young operators – at least in their own minds – drank lager. On-the-make young Thatcherites flipped ceramic stoppers on bottles of Grolsch or swigged on Stella while planning to buy their council houses and participate in the great selloff of national utilities. What a lark!

Half a century on they probably order a pint of best and want their country back even though they were part of the transactions that resulted in the railways, power and water being transferred from public ownership to foreign conglomerates.

In the delusional days of Thatcher’s Britain, only those bloody miners and their lefty mates drank bitter and mild. Close their collieries and breweries and get in another round of five Oranjeboom’s please, with an order of society-destroying deregulation on the side.

Then came the turnaround – at least in the drinking world. In the late 1980s, the phrase ‘lager lout’ became the new cliché of choice. The great inversion of beer snobbery happened almost overnight.

So, for some, enjoying lager is now akin to devil worshiping. Or liking craft beer, which the author of this silly little article somehow conflates with people in “bucket hats” and “hipsters in Camden.”

Can we please stop all this shite. It’s 2025. The phrase “craft beer” should no longer send a shiver of fear through socially conservative nutjobs. There is just good beer and bad beer. OK, so there's mediocre beer, too. All the rest is bullshit.

And can we grow up when talking about lager. If you judge them by InBev’s products, it says more about you than the genre.

Now to my beer of the week. Lost And Grounded’s Keller Pils.

This 4.8 per cent beauty has a descriptor stapline which says ‘Hop Bitter Lager Beer.’ You don’t really need any tasting notes after that. The hoppiness hits you at first gulp, there’s a pleasing sweetness that follows and a satisfying, tangy aftertaste lingers on. Lovely.

The Bristol-based brewery has been in operation for nine years and the Keller Pils is its flagship beer but their entire range is worth trying. The focus is on German and Belgian styles and while you wouldn’t be surprised to get served a drink of this quality on the continent, there’s a uniquely Bristolian feel to Lost And Grounded’s lineup.

Ignore categories and half-arsed preconceptions. Trust only the taste. Some of Britain’s best breweries are producing lagers that will thrill the discerning drinker. Keller Pils is one of the best.